Fight or Die: Part 4
Title: Fight or Die
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Team Hood
Summary: As a pestilence hits Clun, Much becomes ill and the gang have to deal with the unknown disease.
Author Notes Set after 3x05 but before 3x06
Disclaimer: Robin Hood is copyright to Tiger Aspect and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
~
It didn’t take long for the three to gather supplies to last the next few days. They’d meet with either Robin or John once a day at a designated point to check up on things and if anyone was needed they’d use the signals. The camp seemed empty when they’d left and Robin started pacing again as John hovered anxiously over Much. John knew Robin didn’t operate very well with nothing to do but mope and suggested they did their best to nullify the chance of the fever spreading. Soon enough Robin was off to the stream to get water to boil as John started a fire and gave some thought to some remedies to help Much.
When Robin returned with the water and poured into the deep metal cauldron to boil, John checked over Much again. Nothing had really changed but he took that as a good sign, he was almost thankful that Much was breathing so rapidly, it showed he was alive and alive meant he was fighting the disease ravaging his body. The fever had spread throughout his body though and a sheen of sweat lined his skin, soaking through his clothes.
“We should undress him, make him more comfortable,” John pointed out.
Robin nodded in agreement. He was relieved John had stayed behind, he needed someone strong to lean on. Though he knew what to do in the situation he still felt bereft, this was different, this was Much, he couldn’t contemplate dealing with this on his own but he couldn’t have asked everyone to stay and he couldn’t have lived with himself if he had left.
“And we should really burn the clothes,” John said reluctantly.
Living in the forest meant they had little luxuries to live with and clothes weren’t easy to come by.
Robin gave a small look of understanding and pulled the cap carefully off Much’s head and held it a moment.
With a smile he looked at John. “He’ll kill me if I burn it.”
John allowed himself a chuckle. “Fine, how about we boil everything.”
“I think we could all live with that,” Robin replied before tutting at the ferocity of the fever Much had. He was soaked in sweat which only made his sickly body look even worse.
John reassured him. “He’ll be all the better for it when we get him more comfortable. I’ll get some water and we can wash him down, probably have to keep doing so every few hours.”
Robin marvelled at John’s candor in the situation. He remembered how John had been in Nottingham when Vaizey had shut off part of the town citing a pestilence. It all seemed so long ago now. John had a good bedside manner, he’d have been good in the battlefield, taking care of the wounded and dying. As John waited for the water to boil and searched around for clean blankets and cloths Robin set about undressing Much.
The man looked so frail and Robin tentatively pulled him upright to remove his shirt. Much was generally stocky and broad, carrying a lot of muscle weight in his arms and shoulders but that had all seemed to ebb away in the last few hours. Robin hoped he’d get some kind of reaction by moving him, a flinch, mumbling, anything but nothing happened. Much remained lifeless which didn’t make removing his shirt any easier, still Robin managed to remove it and lay him back down, tossing the shirt aside.
He was about to start removing his britches when he paused and frowned. Looking closer he pressed his fingers to where the skin on Much’s side had healed into an ugly, scarred shape of a cross. It was low down, below his stomach near his hip and Robin was shocked to find it.
“What’s this?” he asked. He knew it was a brand he just didn’t know how it had gotten there or when.
John returned to them with a bowl of water, cloths and blankets. He frowned also when he saw the brand and gave a shrug.
“No idea, he never said anything.” John replied, setting the bowl down and dipping the cloths into it.
“Well it isn’t old,” Robin pointed out a little angrily. He wasn’t sure what he was more angry about, that Much had been branded or that Much hadn’t told him. “When could he have possibly,-”
John was giving some thought to it as he wrung excess water from the cloth and interrupted him. “When he was arrested by Gisbourne.”
Robin didn’t doubt it was the work of Vaizey or Gisbourne, but the fact that Much had said nothing of it seemingly to anyone unsettled him. The wound must have troubled him for some time as it healed, never mind the pain he must have gone through receiving it. It sickened Robin to think of the torture Much would have endured and yet he wouldn’t have betrayed him, no matter what they’d done to him Much wouldn’t have said a word.
“Well he should have said something,” Robin said curtly to cover the guilt he was beginning to feel. He took a cloth off John and started to rub Much’s skin down with a smooth gentleness.
John didn’t say anything, he was surprised himself to see the brand. He knew Much had endured torture from The Sheriff as Vaizey had been trying to find their hoard. But he hadn’t gone into details and John hadn’t suspected anything such as the brand. Come to think of it Much had been in bad shape in the days after the ordeal of returning home, Robin’s supposed death and the dealings of all of them being captured through Tuck’s trick. John had just put it down to weariness of the long months they’d endured returning from the Holy land and their not so welcome home. Much’s complaints had been the usual of tiredness or hunger even as he still managed to concoct meals for them from whatever he managed to gather up. Not a word said about being held a prisoner in Nottingham, never mind torture.
It was as if it had never happened, as if it didn’t matter.
~
The desert heat was choking, sand scratched at his skin with a constant itching. The heat didn’t make battle any easier, yet the enemy kept coming, hundreds of them over the dunes, the clashing of steel on steel and shouting indiscernible voices became a constant hum on the air. He felled one man, then another and another, the fight dizzying and exhausting, blood gathered on his sword with each slash into a mans gut or neck. All about him men fell to the ground, eyes open but lifeless, lost to the fight, left to decay in the desert heat. The atmosphere clawed at him with a choking presence, he couldn’t breath or speak, all he could do was raise his sword and fight.
Fight or die.
~
Allan was restless, he felt it was a useless task sitting about in the caves doing nothing. He’d started sharpening his swords until Kate briskly asked him to stop, the sound if it irritating her frayed nerves. She was still upset about her mother, as well as fearful that she could have somehow passed on the fever. She also felt guilty about her irritation at Much in the forest, she’d thought he was taking a rest when in fact he’d been quite ill. If only she’d given him a moment of her time, offered to help instead of snapping at him and leaving him alone. Then someone would have been with him when he’d collapsed, it wasn’t much but it made her feel better thinking he wouldn’t have collapsed alone in the forest. What if they had all left the camp, leaving Much to catch up in his own time? She sat quietly in the corner with her thoughts, subdued and not wanting to be engaged in conversation with either man. Tuck was dutifully going through his books, trying to find anything which could help the situation.
Allan knew it was going to be a long couple of days or however long Much remained ill. He hoped it wouldn’t be long, that it would turn out to be a simple, plain fever which wasn’t life threatening, that he’d recover in no time and everyone would be wondering what all the fuss had been about. Somehow he knew it wasn’t as simple as that, no matter how much he hoped there was a chance Much wouldn’t recover. He wasn’t sure Robin would cope with that, he lived on a knifes edge now as it was, everyone knew Robin was willing to die for his cause now. Much was perhaps the one thing keeping him alive, he had nothing else to live for. Everything of his former life was gone, his family, his home, even his country to some extent. Marian. All that remained was Much and despite the changes in their relationship, Robin still felt some honour bound loyalty to Much and Much to Robin.
At times Allan was jealous of such loyalties, to outsiders, people wouldn’t see the closeness of the two men. He wondered if Kate or Tuck had any idea how close the two were. They spoke a different language sometimes, could read between the lines, say one thing and mean another. Much kept a closer eye on Robin these days, knew he needed more looking after without being obvious about it. But Allan saw the looks, the shrugs, the small gestures they exchanged when all about them people were arguing or yelling and causing distractions. At times they just sat together in silence, or Much would babble on about nothing in particular. It may drive everyone nuts but Allan knew it could be a help sometimes, keep the mind from straying to other things.
Much knew when Robin needed leaving alone or needed a companion to walk with him. Robin discussed things a lot with Tuck, made plans, talked of the future, about the cause they were fighting for. But he talked with Much and that was the difference, because Much trusted him with the future and didn’t need to help make the plans. Much may not agree with anything and was always honest about that, something which riled Tuck to no end, but then Much wasn’t thinking about himself. He was thinking about Robin and if he’d walk out of a plan alive. Because that was Much, it was never about him, it was always about Robin.
Allan looked over at Tuck, head buried in his book with a grim expression as he searched for some hope. Standing, Allan took a walk outside and sat on a mound of earth beyond the caves. He wasn’t a God fearing man, had always lived for himself and rarely prayed. But he closed his eyes and prayed silently for Much to survive. It wasn’t for his own peace of mind, it was for Robin’s, because if Allan had learned one thing from Much it was loyalty to one man who was making a difference. If Much died Allan knew, Robin would soon follow and it would be the end of them all.
“Allan?” Kate’s voice interrupted his thought and he opened his eyes to find her hovering nearby.
“Yeah?” he asked solemnly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you in there,” Kate apologised.
“S’alright,” Allan shrugged. They were all on edge because of the situation.
“You okay?” Kate asked him, drawing closer and sitting nearby.
“Me? Yeah I’m fine,” Allan lied, a smile on his face and a look in his eye. He waved off the question like it was stupid of her to ask.
Kate didn’t look convinced but didn’t say anything. Instead she looked solemn and looked about the forest.
“Just wish there was something we could do,” she said after a pause.
“That’s the problem with these things, just gotta wait them out,” Allan pointed out and she gave a nod of her head.
“Still, makes you feel useless you know,” Kate shrugged in response.
“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Allan said knowingly. Sometimes that was exactly how he felt, especially in situations like this, when all you could do was wait. Patience wasn’t his strong suit. “Maybe Tuck will have summat for us to do, keep us busy.”
“Seems buried in his books,” Kate pointed out.
“May need us to collect some stuff together, so he can make up some potion or other,” Allan said.
“Think it will do any good?” Kate didn’t sound convinced.
Allan didn’t need to hear her doubts, he had enough of them filtering into his head already.
“Can’t do any worse,” He said honestly. “I’ll go mad if I sit around here just thinking about it all.”
~~
Winnie dreamt of her youth, of a day walking in the meadow without a care or worry to contend with. The sun was warm on her skin, the sky clear blue and her husband walked by her side. It was strange because she hadn’t dreamt about her husband in a long time, yet there he was holding her hand and smiling as if she was were home, as if she had returned to a place she rightfully belonged.
Winnie died in her bed with her daughter at her side, who had been hoping for a miracle that didn’t come. Beyond the walls of the small hut which was her mothers home, the hamlet’s inhabitants were slowly succumbing to a disease nobody could control. She held her mothers hand as her breaths became weaker, yet found some comfort in the smile lining her mothers mouth as she drew her dying breath.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Team Hood
Summary: As a pestilence hits Clun, Much becomes ill and the gang have to deal with the unknown disease.
Author Notes Set after 3x05 but before 3x06
Disclaimer: Robin Hood is copyright to Tiger Aspect and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
~
It didn’t take long for the three to gather supplies to last the next few days. They’d meet with either Robin or John once a day at a designated point to check up on things and if anyone was needed they’d use the signals. The camp seemed empty when they’d left and Robin started pacing again as John hovered anxiously over Much. John knew Robin didn’t operate very well with nothing to do but mope and suggested they did their best to nullify the chance of the fever spreading. Soon enough Robin was off to the stream to get water to boil as John started a fire and gave some thought to some remedies to help Much.
When Robin returned with the water and poured into the deep metal cauldron to boil, John checked over Much again. Nothing had really changed but he took that as a good sign, he was almost thankful that Much was breathing so rapidly, it showed he was alive and alive meant he was fighting the disease ravaging his body. The fever had spread throughout his body though and a sheen of sweat lined his skin, soaking through his clothes.
“We should undress him, make him more comfortable,” John pointed out.
Robin nodded in agreement. He was relieved John had stayed behind, he needed someone strong to lean on. Though he knew what to do in the situation he still felt bereft, this was different, this was Much, he couldn’t contemplate dealing with this on his own but he couldn’t have asked everyone to stay and he couldn’t have lived with himself if he had left.
“And we should really burn the clothes,” John said reluctantly.
Living in the forest meant they had little luxuries to live with and clothes weren’t easy to come by.
Robin gave a small look of understanding and pulled the cap carefully off Much’s head and held it a moment.
With a smile he looked at John. “He’ll kill me if I burn it.”
John allowed himself a chuckle. “Fine, how about we boil everything.”
“I think we could all live with that,” Robin replied before tutting at the ferocity of the fever Much had. He was soaked in sweat which only made his sickly body look even worse.
John reassured him. “He’ll be all the better for it when we get him more comfortable. I’ll get some water and we can wash him down, probably have to keep doing so every few hours.”
Robin marvelled at John’s candor in the situation. He remembered how John had been in Nottingham when Vaizey had shut off part of the town citing a pestilence. It all seemed so long ago now. John had a good bedside manner, he’d have been good in the battlefield, taking care of the wounded and dying. As John waited for the water to boil and searched around for clean blankets and cloths Robin set about undressing Much.
The man looked so frail and Robin tentatively pulled him upright to remove his shirt. Much was generally stocky and broad, carrying a lot of muscle weight in his arms and shoulders but that had all seemed to ebb away in the last few hours. Robin hoped he’d get some kind of reaction by moving him, a flinch, mumbling, anything but nothing happened. Much remained lifeless which didn’t make removing his shirt any easier, still Robin managed to remove it and lay him back down, tossing the shirt aside.
He was about to start removing his britches when he paused and frowned. Looking closer he pressed his fingers to where the skin on Much’s side had healed into an ugly, scarred shape of a cross. It was low down, below his stomach near his hip and Robin was shocked to find it.
“What’s this?” he asked. He knew it was a brand he just didn’t know how it had gotten there or when.
John returned to them with a bowl of water, cloths and blankets. He frowned also when he saw the brand and gave a shrug.
“No idea, he never said anything.” John replied, setting the bowl down and dipping the cloths into it.
“Well it isn’t old,” Robin pointed out a little angrily. He wasn’t sure what he was more angry about, that Much had been branded or that Much hadn’t told him. “When could he have possibly,-”
John was giving some thought to it as he wrung excess water from the cloth and interrupted him. “When he was arrested by Gisbourne.”
Robin didn’t doubt it was the work of Vaizey or Gisbourne, but the fact that Much had said nothing of it seemingly to anyone unsettled him. The wound must have troubled him for some time as it healed, never mind the pain he must have gone through receiving it. It sickened Robin to think of the torture Much would have endured and yet he wouldn’t have betrayed him, no matter what they’d done to him Much wouldn’t have said a word.
“Well he should have said something,” Robin said curtly to cover the guilt he was beginning to feel. He took a cloth off John and started to rub Much’s skin down with a smooth gentleness.
John didn’t say anything, he was surprised himself to see the brand. He knew Much had endured torture from The Sheriff as Vaizey had been trying to find their hoard. But he hadn’t gone into details and John hadn’t suspected anything such as the brand. Come to think of it Much had been in bad shape in the days after the ordeal of returning home, Robin’s supposed death and the dealings of all of them being captured through Tuck’s trick. John had just put it down to weariness of the long months they’d endured returning from the Holy land and their not so welcome home. Much’s complaints had been the usual of tiredness or hunger even as he still managed to concoct meals for them from whatever he managed to gather up. Not a word said about being held a prisoner in Nottingham, never mind torture.
It was as if it had never happened, as if it didn’t matter.
~
The desert heat was choking, sand scratched at his skin with a constant itching. The heat didn’t make battle any easier, yet the enemy kept coming, hundreds of them over the dunes, the clashing of steel on steel and shouting indiscernible voices became a constant hum on the air. He felled one man, then another and another, the fight dizzying and exhausting, blood gathered on his sword with each slash into a mans gut or neck. All about him men fell to the ground, eyes open but lifeless, lost to the fight, left to decay in the desert heat. The atmosphere clawed at him with a choking presence, he couldn’t breath or speak, all he could do was raise his sword and fight.
Fight or die.
~
Allan was restless, he felt it was a useless task sitting about in the caves doing nothing. He’d started sharpening his swords until Kate briskly asked him to stop, the sound if it irritating her frayed nerves. She was still upset about her mother, as well as fearful that she could have somehow passed on the fever. She also felt guilty about her irritation at Much in the forest, she’d thought he was taking a rest when in fact he’d been quite ill. If only she’d given him a moment of her time, offered to help instead of snapping at him and leaving him alone. Then someone would have been with him when he’d collapsed, it wasn’t much but it made her feel better thinking he wouldn’t have collapsed alone in the forest. What if they had all left the camp, leaving Much to catch up in his own time? She sat quietly in the corner with her thoughts, subdued and not wanting to be engaged in conversation with either man. Tuck was dutifully going through his books, trying to find anything which could help the situation.
Allan knew it was going to be a long couple of days or however long Much remained ill. He hoped it wouldn’t be long, that it would turn out to be a simple, plain fever which wasn’t life threatening, that he’d recover in no time and everyone would be wondering what all the fuss had been about. Somehow he knew it wasn’t as simple as that, no matter how much he hoped there was a chance Much wouldn’t recover. He wasn’t sure Robin would cope with that, he lived on a knifes edge now as it was, everyone knew Robin was willing to die for his cause now. Much was perhaps the one thing keeping him alive, he had nothing else to live for. Everything of his former life was gone, his family, his home, even his country to some extent. Marian. All that remained was Much and despite the changes in their relationship, Robin still felt some honour bound loyalty to Much and Much to Robin.
At times Allan was jealous of such loyalties, to outsiders, people wouldn’t see the closeness of the two men. He wondered if Kate or Tuck had any idea how close the two were. They spoke a different language sometimes, could read between the lines, say one thing and mean another. Much kept a closer eye on Robin these days, knew he needed more looking after without being obvious about it. But Allan saw the looks, the shrugs, the small gestures they exchanged when all about them people were arguing or yelling and causing distractions. At times they just sat together in silence, or Much would babble on about nothing in particular. It may drive everyone nuts but Allan knew it could be a help sometimes, keep the mind from straying to other things.
Much knew when Robin needed leaving alone or needed a companion to walk with him. Robin discussed things a lot with Tuck, made plans, talked of the future, about the cause they were fighting for. But he talked with Much and that was the difference, because Much trusted him with the future and didn’t need to help make the plans. Much may not agree with anything and was always honest about that, something which riled Tuck to no end, but then Much wasn’t thinking about himself. He was thinking about Robin and if he’d walk out of a plan alive. Because that was Much, it was never about him, it was always about Robin.
Allan looked over at Tuck, head buried in his book with a grim expression as he searched for some hope. Standing, Allan took a walk outside and sat on a mound of earth beyond the caves. He wasn’t a God fearing man, had always lived for himself and rarely prayed. But he closed his eyes and prayed silently for Much to survive. It wasn’t for his own peace of mind, it was for Robin’s, because if Allan had learned one thing from Much it was loyalty to one man who was making a difference. If Much died Allan knew, Robin would soon follow and it would be the end of them all.
“Allan?” Kate’s voice interrupted his thought and he opened his eyes to find her hovering nearby.
“Yeah?” he asked solemnly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you in there,” Kate apologised.
“S’alright,” Allan shrugged. They were all on edge because of the situation.
“You okay?” Kate asked him, drawing closer and sitting nearby.
“Me? Yeah I’m fine,” Allan lied, a smile on his face and a look in his eye. He waved off the question like it was stupid of her to ask.
Kate didn’t look convinced but didn’t say anything. Instead she looked solemn and looked about the forest.
“Just wish there was something we could do,” she said after a pause.
“That’s the problem with these things, just gotta wait them out,” Allan pointed out and she gave a nod of her head.
“Still, makes you feel useless you know,” Kate shrugged in response.
“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Allan said knowingly. Sometimes that was exactly how he felt, especially in situations like this, when all you could do was wait. Patience wasn’t his strong suit. “Maybe Tuck will have summat for us to do, keep us busy.”
“Seems buried in his books,” Kate pointed out.
“May need us to collect some stuff together, so he can make up some potion or other,” Allan said.
“Think it will do any good?” Kate didn’t sound convinced.
Allan didn’t need to hear her doubts, he had enough of them filtering into his head already.
“Can’t do any worse,” He said honestly. “I’ll go mad if I sit around here just thinking about it all.”
~~
Winnie dreamt of her youth, of a day walking in the meadow without a care or worry to contend with. The sun was warm on her skin, the sky clear blue and her husband walked by her side. It was strange because she hadn’t dreamt about her husband in a long time, yet there he was holding her hand and smiling as if she was were home, as if she had returned to a place she rightfully belonged.
Winnie died in her bed with her daughter at her side, who had been hoping for a miracle that didn’t come. Beyond the walls of the small hut which was her mothers home, the hamlet’s inhabitants were slowly succumbing to a disease nobody could control. She held her mothers hand as her breaths became weaker, yet found some comfort in the smile lining her mothers mouth as she drew her dying breath.